


Truth Through Television

by randomizer



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV), Sleepy Hollow (TV), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Meta, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:12:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2777789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomizer/pseuds/randomizer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod and Abbie learn a little about their own relationship by watching others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Through Television

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fennishjournal (Shimi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shimi/gifts).



Sometimes, when Abbie has a moment to pause between demonic encounters, she marvels at what her life has become. It’s not only the being-a-Witness thing, it’s not only the stopping-the-world-from-an-impending-Apocalypse thing--truth be told, finding out about all that wasn’t really a shock to her. It’s not only that the most significant man in her life right now was born in 1750. No, what really amazes her is the fact that she seems to have become the sort of person who watches _television_.

It was really all Crane’s fault, Crane and his odd infatuation with twenty-first century pop culture. He denies it, of course, acts as though everything he’s doing is in service to their joint destiny to fight evil and stop Moloch. But Abbie knows better.

It starts with _The Walking Dead_.  Abbie is vaguely aware of the show--it’s hard to help being aware of it, since it’s all anyone seems to talk about every Monday morning at the precinct. But she’d certainly never choose to watch anything about a post-apocalyptic world. Before Ichabod, she’d have been bored.  Now, it just seems a little defeatist to think about what everything might be like if she and Ichabod fail in their mission. Zombies, after all, would probably be a blessing compared to day-to-day life post-Moloch.

Ichabod shares none of these reservations. “Lieutenant, you’re simply not giving this show its due. It’s all about metaphors. The zombies represent the dark forces inherent in the world everywhere. Plus, the CGI effects are amazing.”

Abbie can’t help grinning a little to herself at that one. ( _“You laugh more around him,” Jenny had said to her one day. “You never used to laugh much.” Abbie had never really found that anything in her life before was really funny. There wasn’t much about it now that was really funny, properly understood, but still_.) 

Ichabod is looking at her. “Sit down, Lieutenant. It is always possible that you might learn something useful that will aid us in our quest.”

Abbie snorts but nonetheless finds herself settling down next to him. “Who’s the chick with the long sword?”

Ichabod studies the screen. “That’s Michonne. Her sword is a Japanese katana--very effective, very deadly.”

“Deadly?  She’s killing things that are already dead, isn’t she? Where’s the challenge in that?” Abbie raises a mental eyebrow as Michonne wipes out two of the staggering zombies. She snorts. It really didn’t looks so hard. She’s not sure why Ichabod seems so impressed with Michonne, and she's not sure she likes it.

“Yes, the Walkers--that’s the proper nomenclature for these particular zombies--are dead indeed. That does not make them any less dangerous, sadly.”

“Is that sword enchanted?” Abbie asks this as if it were the most natural question in the world. Enchanted weapons have suddenly become as commonplace as silverware.

“No. There is no magic in this world, only . . .”

“Only evil.” Abbie finishes the thought, and the two look at each other with one of those unsettling moments of perfect understanding that are simultaneously so disquieting and so comforting.

 

§§§

  
Because Abbie complains so much about _The Walking Dead_ , Ichabod decides to try something else that he thinks might please her more. Somehow he learns about _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , a show Abbie vaguely remembers from high school. He persuades her to try it after he himself has been watching enthusiastically for weeks.

“This one will be very educational for us, Lieutenant. There are a _lot_ of apocalypses in it.” He smiles at her a little, and she finds herself smiling back reflexively, before she can stop herself.

“A LOT of apocalypses? I thought we had it bad with just the one.” Abbie sinks onto the couch, resigned to whatever it was she is about to see on the flickering screen in front of them.

“Buffy apparently saved the world a lot.  Yet it cannot be denied that new apocalypses still kept coming every year or so. It was undoubtedly extraordinarily discouraging for her.” Ichabod studies the small blond woman on the screen, who appeared to battle her demons ably through an effective combination of flips, kicks, and witticisms.

Abbie watches a vampire turn to dust. It would certainly be nice if their own apocalypse could be dispensed with as efficiently. She admires Buffy’s quick moves and makes a mental note to study them a little more later. “So what’s her deal? She’s supposed to be the one person in all the world who can fight these things? How exactly does that work?”

Ichabod nods at her without taking his eyes off of Buffy.  “Yes.  One person--one girl, to be more precise--is chosen in each generation to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. That one person, according to the helpful exposition at the beginning of each episode, is the Slayer.”

Abbie is suddenly grateful for her own apocalypse. No matter how hopeless it might seem, she isn’t alone in this fight: she and Ichabod are both Witnesses. Abbie realizes how much she appreciates being able to share that burden. Ridiculously, she feels a bit sorry for the not-really-real Buffy Summers.

Ichabod is watching her. He hesitates, then speaks carefully, never taking his eyes off the screen. “I imagine it would have been a bit . . . lonely for her. She had friends, but nobody else could really know the burden, the responsibility that comes with . . .”

Abbie nods. “No, none of them could.” They sit in companionable silence for a moment.

Abbie suddenly squints at the screen, not quite believing what she is seeing. “Crane? Isn’t that . . . that’s not a _vampire_ that Buffy is . . .”

Ichabod sighs. “Having, shall we say, _relations_ with?  Yes.  That particular vampire is known as William the Bloody, more commonly referred to as ‘Spike.’  He _is_ technically evil, but he does have his occasionally redeeming moment. He’s also not the first vampire to whom Buffy has favored her attentions.  She appears to lead a complicated personal life.”

Abbie glances at Ichabod, wondering what he is thinking.  She knows that Ichabod and Katrina have elevated the stock “it’s complicated” into an entirely new stratosphere, and she is not sure exactly how Ichabod is feeling about it right now.  “It’s hard,” is all she says.

“What is?” Ichabod still is looking at the screen, and not at her.

“Fighting evil and having a personal life.” Now Ichabod turns to her, and she sees the sadness in his eyes.

“It certainly is.” She starts to say something but stops herself. Both of them focus on the gratifyingly simpler world of Buffy, Spike, and an apocalypse that will be defeated at the end of each television season.

 

§§§  
  
Abbie isn’t sure exactly when _Sherlock_ is added to their repertoire, since it has nothing whatsoever to do with apocalypses. But the show entrances Ichabod from the first moment he sees Sherlock and Watson solving the case of the woman with the pink suitcase. He insists that Abbie join him for a weekend of binge-watching the rest of the episodes.

Abbie sighs.  At least there are only nine of them, she thinks to herself. Much better than the 144 episodes of _Buffy._   At least this one would only take up a weekend, and not weeks of evenings. And by now, if she were being strictly honest with herself, and she would admit that she has begun to enjoy these television sessions more than she ever thought she would have.

Abbie’s only comment, after watching the three episodes that comprised the first season, is that Moriarty does not seem like a genuine foil for Sherlock, no matter how formidable the show tries to make him appear. “He’s no Moloch, that’s all I’m saying. If we only had Moriarty to deal with, it would be cake.”

Ichabod considers this. “To be precisely fair, we’d have all sorts of magics and enchantments and such on our side, so using that against a mere mortal--even a diabolically clever mortal--wouldn’t be terribly difficult.”

“Well, I think it’s about time that we had some of these odds in our favor. I’d feel a whole lot more comfortable if you were just some made-up consulting detective and I helped you out when I had nothing better to do. It’s a way better gig for both of us than being Witnesses to save the world.”

Ichabod does not attempt to deny it. “None of us has the power to choose our fates, Lieutenant.” Abbie nods, sighs, and turns back to the show.

Ichabod seems particularly entranced with Sherlock and Watson.  “They’re a team, you see--Sherlock _thinks_ that he works alone, but he’s actually much more effective with Watson. Really, he’s a bit of an insufferable prig, that Sherlock. He’s all too quick to let everyone know that he’s by far the most intelligent person in the room. That sort of behavior is rarely appreciated by one’s peers.”

Abbie’s eyes roll.  “Yeah, I can certainly see why you’d find that annoying.”

Ichabod ignores this. “I imagine that many viewers attempt to insinuate that there is more to Sherlock and Watson’s relationship than simple comrades and colleagues. These Internets of yours are apparently well known for that sort of innuendo.”

Abbie shakes her head. “I don’t know--there’s _something_ between those two. The way they look at each other . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if they were more than just friends.”

Ichabod looks at her searchingly for a moment before speaking.  “I have no doubt whatever that they are more than ‘just friends.’ Their work binds them into a relationship unlike any other. They might well be closer to one another than they are to anyone else, but that closeness does not have to translate into the sorts of relations usually reserved for those who are romantically in love.”

Abbie looks back at him, feeling oddly annoyed. “Sure, it doesn’t _have_ to. But it might. Why shut out the possibility? Neither of them is married or involved with anyone else, after all.” She finds herself flushing a little and hopes Crane doesn’t notice.

Ichabod doesn’t answer, and he remains quiet until the end of the final episode.  “So. That’s all there are. I’m sorry we don’t have more. Listening to people speak English properly has been gratifying.”

“I think there’s another one.” Abbie says this before she fully thinks through the possible repercussions.

Ichabod looks at her sharply. “Another one? What do you mean?”

“Another Sherlock Holmes show.  But it’s produced in America, not in England.” Even with that caveat, Ichabod’s eyes light up, and Abbie resigns herself to more evenings of streaming.  She wonders if she dares mess with the wifi and decides against it.

 

§§§

  
Abbie is surprised to find that watching _Elementary_ so soon after _Sherlock_ is somewhat interesting.  She especially enjoys the fact that in this version, Watson is a woman, and an Asian-American woman at that.

This time, however, it is Ichabod who is critical. “This one is entertaining enough, but it’s no _Sherlock_. There just aren’t the same nuances and darkness in it. It’s undoubtedly because it was created for an American audience rather than a British one. Americans are notorious for their lack of subtlety.”

Abbie shakes her head. “Just a wee bit of prejudice there, Crane?”

“Not at all, Lieutenant.  But you have to admit that it lacks something of the depth of _Sherlock_ , don’t you?”

To her surprise, Abbie finds that she actually cares enough to argue with him. “No, I actually don’t. The Watson in this one is a lot more interesting than the Watson in Sherlock, and I think it’s brilliant to have Moriarty be a woman--especially if that woman is Irene Adler.”

Ichabod actually sputters. “Lieutenant, how can you . . . Irene Adler was, for want of a more accurate term, Sherlock’s great love. It’s insane to imagine a world in which Irene Adler and Moriarty are one and the same person.”

Abbie isn’t going to let this one go. “First, I don’t see anyone really being Sherlock’s great love--he’s just not wired for that. But second, you should know better than anyone that it’s not impossible for the love of someone’s life to be a mortal enemy!” It comes out all in a rush, the apparent result of months of frustration and resentment that she did not even realize she was feeling. She stops when she sees Ichabod’s expression harden, knowing that she’s gone too far.

Ichabod’s face is flushed with anger. “Katrina is _not_ our mortal enemy. She is an ally, and a very valuable one. Yes, she wasn’t always honest with me in the past, but that does not in any way mean . . .”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Crane.” Abbie _is_ sorry; she had never meant for this particular conversation ever to happen, particularly not on one of their few weekends of down time between demonic battles.  They both concentrate on an episode that, ironically enough, centers around a think tank that considers all potential apocalypse scenarios--climate change, bioweapons, giant comets, artificial intelligence.  _They don’t know the half of it_ , she thinks.

“And you’re also wrong about Sherlock.” Ichabod is staring at the screen, not looking at Abbie.

“Wrong about what?”

“Wrong that Sherlock had no love of his life. Whatever his relationship was with Irene, he has, he always _will_ have . . . Watson.”

“Watson?” Abbie stares at him. “They’re friends. They work together. That’s all there is to it. They work together and put up with one another.”  She wonders impatiently about the peculiar  note of uncertainty that she hears in her own voice.  

At that moment, she and Ichabod simultaneously become aware of what Sherlock is saying to Watson in the program: _“I mean, Watson, that whether you care to admit it lately or not, I am an important part of your life. And whether I say it out loud or not, you are an important part of mine. My return to New York was driven in large part by a desire to repair our relationship, and I think, even though we might draw further or nearer from each other, depending on circumstance, you and I are bound, somehow.”_ His words echo in Abbie’s head. She stares at Crane, seeing everything she is recognizing, everything she is feeling, mirrored in his eyes.

“Lieutenant . . .” Ichabod hesitates, and Abbie touches his hand.  They sit silently for a moment, watching the episode come to a close.

“One more?” Ichabod looks at Abbie, who nods.  There is nothing more to say, not really.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide, fennishjournal! I'm sorry that in this case I needed to treat your optional details as optional, because I don't see the characters in the same dominant/submissive roles that you do. (However, I did attempt to make it appear that Ichabod wanted to please Abbie with his choice of binge-watching shows, at least!) I saw that you were into the Sherlock fandom, so I hope that incorporating something of that here might help. Perhaps someone else will by chance write the BDSM fic of your dreams, and I hope you like what I've done a little bit in spite of what it isn't. Thanks!


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